Legacy
by FlYiNgPiGlEtS
Summary: Post 5x13, one-shot, spoilers. Merlin returns to Camelot; to gratitude and promises, and a legacy he knows he must protect. Warnings inside.


**WARNING: **sensitive themes (possible triggers). Character deaths. Violence. General emotional fluctuation coming right up. **  
**

**SPOILERS: **major series five spoilers. DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE FINALE (well, you could, but it would totally spoil it)!

**Title: **Legacy

**Author: **FlYiNgPiGlEtS

**Summary: **post 5x13, one-shot, spoilers. Merlin returns to Camelot; to gratitude and promises, and a legacy he knows he must protect.

**Ratings**: T

**Pairings:** no slash. Gwen/Arthur.

**Disclaimer: **unfortunately, I don't own Merlin; it belongs to the BBC and Shine.

* * *

_Legacy_

* * *

Merlin returned with Percival, and the knight had to half-carry him to the physician's quarters. Gwen watched from the window, feeling very much like a coward – but she stayed there anyway. If she stood there for a little longer, safe in the condiments of their chambers, then perhaps she wouldn't have to face the truth.

It was invertible, though, that the truth would find her. And when Percival stepped inside later that night, eyes alight with tears, and kneeled before her, she knew what her heart had been telling her for days. Arthur was gone.

She took the Royal Seal from him. She reassured him that none of this was his fault. And then, when the devastated knight gone, she broke down and cried.

* * *

Gwen was announced as Arthur's heir. She sat on her throne, in front of her subjects, and Leon declared it so. She wanted to break down, to cry, but Arthur had trusted her with the kingdom and she would be strong for him.

Anyway, she didn't think she had any more tears left to cry.

Merlin wasn't there. She hadn't seen him since he'd returned two days previously. It saddened her, when she realized she didn't expect to.

Arthur was gone. And with him, Merlin.

* * *

Gwaine's funeral came two days later. Gwen and Percival and Leon stood in front of the pyre, hiding their tears, suppressing their grief. Gwaine wouldn't have wanted them to be sad. So they told themselves that Gwaine and Arthur were watching over them and that one day they would be reunited, and for a moment it wasn't quite as hard to stare into the flames.

But when Gwen returned to her chambers, she remembered Gwaine's last words and allowed herself to cry. Just for a moment, she told herself. And then it was back to being Queen.

Twilight fell. She stood by the window – a habit she seemed to have picked up while waiting for Arthur's return – and saw someone who had been missing from the funeral.

Merlin was standing alone in front of the dying flames. She could not see his face, but she knew somehow, in the set of his shoulders, that it would be one of determination. He was trying to be strong.

And so she would do the same. She didn't cry herself to sleep that night.

* * *

More days passed. Camelot mourned, but it was slowly recovering.

Gwen was not. She was angry. Perhaps she had expected the heavens to split apart as her heart did every time she lay alone in the bed she'd once shared with Arthur, and let out the flood that she'd been holding back since she saw Merlin in the courtyard. But the sun shone.

Merlin was not there. She didn't want to be angry at him, but there was only so much pain one could feel before it turned into resentment.

Time passed again, and she was no longer sure whom she hated. Merlin or Arthur, the knights or herself. Most night, she decided she was simply bitter.

But Merlin was not there.

* * *

The council wasn't sure about her suggestion to lift the ban on magic. But her grief and hate had melted into determination. She needed to _do something_. And she needed to repay Merlin for all that he had done for her and for Arthur.

This was her present to him. It might take days or months. Years, perhaps. No matter how long it took, she would changer their minds. She would free Merlin's kind, if it was the last thing she did.

* * *

Gaius had been absent as well, sometimes. He looked tired and old, and Gwen wanted to reassure him, but she didn't know what she could say. It seemed plausible that the physician had been tending to his ward, but Gwen wasn't sure.

Eventually, she could not put it off any longer. When the council had filtered out, after another meeting about the repeal of the ban, she asked him, "How is Merlin?"

The physician didn't reply at first. Then, eventually, "I am not entirely sure, my lady."

Her heart pounded. "What do you mean?"

"He has not been home in a week."

"A week?" the pace of her heart quickened yet again. "I will send a search party to find him. Perhaps–"

"I doubt he wishes to be found, my lady," Gauis told her quietly. "Perhaps we should leave him be."

Gwen nodded and watched the physician leave.

_He's left me_, she thought.

* * *

Merlin returned the next afternoon, drenched head to toe. It had not been raining, and he hadn't been anywhere near Camelot moments before. He'd appeared out of thin air, cold and wet, and looking like he had lost everything. Perhaps he had.

Percival was in the courtyard with him. She thought she saw the name _Avalon_ on the knight's lips, before he once again helped Merlin to Gauis' quarters.

She wanted to believe that things would be different now. But in her heart, she knew it could not be.

* * *

Later that night, Gwen sat alone in her chambers. Her dinner was left untouched on the table; she had no appetite for anything recently.

A few candles illuminated the room. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, to grant her fatigued body rest, but she didn't want to dream of Arthur anymore. When she woke up and realized he'd been nothing more than her imagination, she felt empty. Her mornings were unpleasant enough, with her worsening sickness, and with those cold realizations came such loneliness that could not yet be filled.

Denial was another companion of hers when dawn came. She recognized what her body was telling her, but refused to believe it. It could not be true. For now, it _would not _be true.

Just as she had forced herself to go to bed, if not for herself but for the child, there was a gentle knock at the door. She called for them to enter, and the last person she had expected – though the first person she had hoped for – stepped into the candle's hushed light.

"Merlin," she whispered, the name catching in her throat.

Merlin looked more himself than he had from her chamber window. He still wore a neckerchief – the blue one she knew was his favorite – and red shirt underneath the new brown coat Arthur had bought him last winter.

But there was something different in his eyes now, that she caught only a glimpse of before he turned his gaze away. A loss she wasn't sure even she could comprehend, an incompleteness she could not fathom even in her darkest hours. It broke her heart all over again, and perhaps she had not lost Merlin in body yet, but she feared she had in spirit.

Only in his eyes did he look older. There was such wisdom there. And in the depths of those blue pools, she saw a man who had seen all that was wrong with this world. She saw someone who had lost it all, and was trying to pretend that he hadn't.

"Hello, Gwen," he said quietly, apologetically, and she noted that he was looking anywhere but her. In fact, the floor appeared to be the only thing he _could _look, for every time he glanced about the room at the chair Arthur would sit at late at night, contemplating speeches with his manservant, or at the bed he'd dragged the king out of so many times, another part of him broke.

She didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to scream at him for leaving her, for going to Avalon and doing what he did, because it was so _wrong _to think that she could lose him to those waters as she had Arthur. How could he?

Another part of her simply wanted to put her arms around him and beg him never to leave her again. She needed him here, by her side. Arthur may be gone, but Camelot was still standing, and so was she.

But she understood his pain more than anyone. She didn't need to ask him _why_. The answer was simple, obvious. She hated that.

In the end, she did nothing but ask, "What happened?" Because it was the only question no one could answer. Percival didn't know, and Gaius would not say.

"I'm so sorry, Gwen," he murmured, voice thick and constricted. If she could see his eyes, she knew they would be filled with tears. "There was nothing… I _tried_, but Mordred. And the horses… Morgana. I couldn't get there in time. And it's my fault… it's all my fault." Merlin was sobbing now. He finally looked at her, tears sparkling in his eyes. She couldn't move. "He would have wanted me here, you know. With you, in Camelot. Leon and Percival–they've been… they've been so loyal, and _Gwaine_…. I–I'm so sorry. I should have been here. You're lifting the ban, and I repay you by–I left you. And I am so sorry, Gwen."

"I _needed _you," she said softly, not quite understanding the words that left her mouth, but having to say them anyway.

"I know," Merlin choked. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm–"

"Stop."

Another sob caught in Merlin's throat, and Gwen broke. She strode to where Merlin stood and took him in her arms, holding him close, remembering what it was like to have him near because she feared it would be the last time.

Merlin's crying and muttering continued. "It's all my fault. I should have saved him. I knew Mordred would… and if I had stopped Gwaine. He–I never told him the truth. He never… I should have… oh, Gwen, I am so sorry…"

She ran a hand gently over his hair, as she would a child. "It is not your fault, Merlin. I will not let you think that."

"But it is. I should have… I should have–"

"_No_." She pushed him away, gripping his shoulders so he would look at her. Her chest ached when she saw his eyes; they reminded her so much of Arthur. They were never without each other. It seemed wrong that Arthur was not here now with Merlin. "No, Merlin, _it was not your fault_."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it's true," she replied certainly. "What happened was no one's fault. There was nothing any of us could have done."

And when she thought of Morgana, the woman she had once considered to be her closest friend, she hid her anger and her blame. Because Morgana had been hurt in this war too, and Gwen was still bitter.

Nothing changed in Merlin's eyes, though. Gwen resigned herself to knowing it would take time to lessen that pain. Some wounds never healed – she knew that, she _felt _that – but we can still learn to bear our scars.

"The Saxons… before Avalon, I…" Merlin swallowed hard. A look of both regret and pride stole at his features. He looked satisfied, yet sickened. "They'll never bother us again."

Gwen didn't question what he'd done or how he'd done it. She simple smiled and said, "Thank you." And she knew that no matter how many times she said those words, it would never be enough to truly show her gratitude for all that he'd done for her, so she took him in his arms once more and told him, "Thank you for everything you've done for us, Merlin. _Thank you_."

Merlin's sobbing renewed itself, as though those two words were his undoing, and Gwen tightened her hold on him. She felt his body shake, his tears drop onto the silk of her dress, and closed her eyes against what she had tried so hard to hold back.

But she couldn't hide it anymore. As Merlin sobbed, so did she. They stood there and cried for all that they had lost. For the man they had both loved, that had been stolen from them by the cruel hands of destiny and fate, and for the future of uncertainty that they were now faced with.

Outside, it begun to rain.

* * *

Merlin didn't look like he had slept for weeks and Gwen knew he probably thought the same about her, but neither of them mentioned it. When their tears had finally dried, they sat at the table and talked like they used to, until a comfortable silence fell over the chambers. The only sound was the quiet pitter-patter of rain against the window. Soon it would be a new day and Gwen would have to return to her duties as Queen. She didn't know what Merlin would return to and that scared her.

"There will always be a place for you here, Merlin," she said, finally breaking the silence. "When I lift the ban, I will need a Court Sorcerer."

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I don't think…"

"It's what he would have wanted."

They couldn't say his name. Somehow, they knew it would be too painful to say it out loud. _Arthur_.

The smile grew into something more real. "Do Court Sorcerers clean socks?"

Gwen laughed for the first time since Camlann. "I don't think so."

"Then I'm afraid I'm not qualified for the job."

"I know you are powerful, Merlin," Gwen continued more seriously, meeting his eyes. "And I know that you are wise. He valued your opinion more than anyone's. And if he had known, I believe this is what he would have wanted."

"He did know," Merlin whispered, so quietly she almost didn't hear. "I told him, before… he… he _thanked _me."

Gwen smiled fondly. "I'm glad. You were his best friend, Merlin, you meant everything to him."

The warlock shook his head modestly. "_You _meant everything to him. He loved you more than anything, you know."

"Yes, well, only you could calm him down when he was in one of his moods."

This startled a laugh out of Merlin and they both chuckled quietly, carefully, as if afraid to do so just yet.

"I can think of no on else I would rather have in the position but you, Merlin," Gwen said earnestly. "I know I can't ask you to stay, but if you do decide to, then it's yours."

"I want to stay."

"Merlin, you don't have to pretend–"

"No, you're right. Camelot is my home, and I think… I think it's what he would have wanted." He inhaled deeply, shakily. "I would happily take up the position, my lady."

"So you're staying?" Gwen asked, her heart pounding in anticipation, and fear that he would suddenly change his mind.

Merlin smiled and nodded. "If you'll have me."

"Of course we'll–" she sighed and shook her head, laughing. "Thank you, Merlin."

"Thank _you_, Gwen. We've waited so long…"

"You won't have to hide anymore, Merlin," Gwen said. "I am so sorry for–"

"We can't change the past," Merlin cut in.

Gwen nodded in agreement. "No, but we can ensure it will never repeat itself. I promise that you and your kind will never be prosecuted again."

They talked about lifting the ban for quite sometime. When the sun did rise, breaking through the dissipating clouds, they stood by the window and watched. Gwen let her head rest on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin put his arm around her, pulling her close.

Feeling suddenly bold in the face of new beginnings, Gwen found the courage to say, "Arthur will watch over us."

And Merlin, with the same unwavering bravery he'd always had, said in reply, "Yes, Arthur will."

The sun shone through the glass, its warm rays bathing their cheeks, and it was like Arthur himself was smiling down on them.

* * *

A month later, the ban was lifted and Merlin was sworn in as Court Sorcerer. Camelot had celebrated for the first time since losing their King. It was an occasion none of them would forget anytime soon.

Leon and Percival drunk mead and discussed what Gwaine would have done if he'd been here to see this. It was the first time they'd been able to talk about the knight since his funeral, and it was liberating.

Gwen and Merlin joined in, laughing about the maids Gwaine had taken a liking to, and the knight's infamous tavern tales. They talked also of his courage, his loyalty. Percival believed Gwaine already knew of Merlin's magic. Merlin hoped he was right. _Courage, Strength and Magic_, he recalled fondly.

Gauis and Hunith (who had made the journey to Camelot the week before) were more than proud. At the banquet, they served up Merlin's favorite meal, at Gwen and Gaius' request. He had promised, after all.

Merlin wished Arthur had been there, but he liked to think he was watching anyway. Maybe Freya was with him. Gwaine and Lancelot and Balinor too. He hoped they would be proud. Gauis told him they would.

* * *

Camelot had, for the most part, welcomed its new Court Sorcerer with open arms. But the council, however, were more objective to Merlin's new role, and meetings had turned into a battle of three teams – the small group of them that wanted harmony, for them all to work together; the larger group who wanted Merlin and magic out again; and the medium-sized team who didn't care enough either way, and were more furious about the arguing than the actual point of it all.

Gwen was forced to ban Lord Ector from court not two weeks after Merlin's initiation into the position of Court Sorcerer, when he had gone as far as to insult the warlock's mother. Merlin had left before he did something he would regret, his temper having already been worn thin by some of the pompous lords who were opposed to his methods, and when the council had been dismissed Gwen set off to find him.

He was sitting on the steps leading down to the courtyard. It was getting dark and people were starting to go home. They bowed respectfully to their Queen and she smiled back, as she took a seat beside the new Court Sorcerer.

"Arthur was going to ban Ector too," Merlin said quietly. It was still hard to say his name, but they did it anyway, when they could.

"We should have done so a long time ago."

Merlin nodded.

"What he said about… don't listen to him, Merlin." Gwen looped her arm through his, shuffling closer. "He is wrong. He is _so wrong_. Please don't ever think you're a monster, because you are the most kind-hearted and selfless man I know, and he should never have said those things."

Merlin laughed humorlessly. "He said I would burn in Hell."

"Merlin–"

"I can't," Merlin continued bitterly. "At least not for a long, long time."

"No, Merlin, you will _never_–"

"I'm immortal, Gwen."

Gwen frowned, not understand. "I don't–no. You're not–you couldn't possibly…"

"I'm a creature of the Old Religion," Merlin muttered. "I can't die. As long as magic lives on in the world, so will I."

"So you… you won't die?" Gwen questioned, throat aching terribly.

Merlin shook his head.

After too much silence, she had to ask, "When did you find out?"

"Before Camlann," he explained. "Morgana drained me of my magic. I went to the Crystal Cave to get it back, and I met my father. He told me everything."

She didn't know what to say. The words hadn't sunk it. To her, it wasn't possible. How could someone live forever? How could _Merlin _live forever? She watched the sadness in his eyes, watched it grown powerlessly. How many years before it consumed him?

"If… if you needed–wanted–then there must be a way." Gwen hated this, she decided, as she said those words. "Surely, you can't…"

"It didn't work, when I tried to… I can't die, Gwen."

She took his hand in hers and squeezed. "It will be all right. I promise you it will be all right, Merlin."

He didn't look like he believed her. She didn't think she did either.

* * *

They didn't speak of Merlin's immortality after that. As Gwen's symptoms worsened and the possibility that she was pregnant became undeniable, she forced herself to go to Gaius' quarters to discover the truth.

Merlin was not there when she arrived. Only Gaius was home, mixing up some kind of potion.

"My lady," Gaius greeted. "How can I help you?"

She told him and soon enough he confirmed that yes, she was pregnant with Arthur's child. For a long time, she simply sat in that familiar room, hands over her stomach as if she were finally realizing there was something _there_, a new part of her that might just fill the holes Arthur had left. Gaius talked about what it would mean for her, for the kingdom, and allowed her time to process the information while he prepared something for the sickness. Finally, she allowed herself to be pleased. No, _happy_; she was _pregnant._

Merlin returned while Gwen was still there, looking somewhat surprised to see her. Soon, his surprise morphed into panic and dread. She could see the questions behind his eyes. _Is she leaving me already?_

"Merlin." Gwen stood, unsure of just how to deliver the news.

"Gwen," Merlin said in reply. "What are you doing here? Are you all right?"

"I, um... I was here to see, err... Merlin, I–I'm pregnant."

Merlin's eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm pregnant," she said again.

"Arthur… _Arthur's_ child?"

Gwen smiled and laughed, and wondered just what she was going to do, and laughed some more. "Yes, who else's? There will be a Pendragon heir after all."

A large grin split across Merlin's face, and they were hugging and babbling about princes and princesses, and how Arthur would live on again. For now, they didn't think about him not being there to see it all. But they would, later, when the celebration turned to contemplation.

* * *

Camelot was overjoyed. The Pendragon dynasty would go on.

Gwen's stomach grew. With each passing day another shard of her heart fit back into place.

She imagined the child would look like Arthur. Merlin agreed – but there was a new pain in his eyes that Gwen didn't want to touch upon, in fear of what she might find if she did.

Camelot was overjoyed, and so was Gwen.

New beginnings indeed.

* * *

Gaius death came just a month before the birth of Gwen and Arthur's child. Gwen had entered a new stage of exhaustion, now that she was growing nearer to her due date, and her emotions had become somewhat uncontrollable. She locked herself in her chambers for three days to cry and grieve, only allowing maids in with food and water and medicine. Leon and Percival were let inside every now and then, when they came to check up on her. Merlin never came.

She felt so selfish for her display that she'd spent another day crying before finally seeking Merlin out. No one had seen him since the physician's death, and Gwen worried that he'd left. What if had had gone to Avalon again?

Instead, much to her temporary relief, she found him the physician's chambers with a water skin filled with wine, looking far too drunk for a now-lord and sworn-in Court Sorcerer. He was half asleep, slumped indignantly against Gaius' old cot, where the old man had died peacefully a few nights before. He grunted in greeting when Gwen drew up a stool and sat down opposite him, and then burped and begun to giggle uncontrollably.

"Merlin–"

Merlin's laughter stopped abruptly. "He's gone, Gwen. He's never coming back," he slurred. "Another… another one gone… and he won't be the last. I'm going to be alone one day."

"No." She shook her head. "You will _never _be alone. There will be others who will walk your path with you."

"And they will all die eventually."

"You _will not _be alone, Merlin. When the time comes, we will all be looking over you. You won't ever be alone."

Merlin stared up at her, like a child begging for reassurance. "I'm scared, Gwen."

"I know," she whispered. "I know, but you are so brave, Merlin. You'll be all right."

"Will I ever see you again, after?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, I believe so."

Merlin let himself slump almost completely to the ground. Gwen lowered herself carefully down beside him and took him in her arms.

"I c-can't lose any more people," he sobbed. "Not after… not after Arthur. I _can't_."

Gwen stayed with him until he had fallen asleep beside her. Percival carried him to one of the guest chambers and Leon was there when he woke up with a terrible hang over, to pass him the chamber pot and reassure him that it would be all right. They were all there for him.

* * *

The funeral was held in the courtyard. Nearly every citizen in Camelot was there to pay their respects to the physician they all knew and respected. Merlin, Gwen, Leon and Percival stood there the longest, until it was dark and they returned to the palace to celebrate Gaius' life, rather than mourn his death.

The grieving would come later. For now, they simply remembered.

* * *

Gwen screamed. It hurt more than she'd anticipated, but she thought, through the haze of pain and feverish confusion, that she was also crying for Arthur, because he wasn't there and he should have been.

Traditionally, men were not allowed in the room, but she needed someone's hand to break, and she thought Merlin might have gone mad having to wait outside the door. Though now, as the final stages of her labor approached, she was quite sure they would both regret that decision.

Bronwyn, the daughter of Gaius' replacement, a man named Cadoc, was responsible for overseeing any births among the nobles. She gripped Gwen's knee encouragingly and continued to talk her through the labor, calm and reassuring even in the face of Gwen's hysterics.

"Not long now, my lady," she told the Queen. "You are doing very well."

Gwen did not feel at all like she was doing 'very well', but couldn't find the voice to tell the girl. Merlin, tired and pale and as frankly freighted as she was, spoke reassuringly to her also, but she didn't hear.

Somewhere, somehow, she thought she heard Arthur's voice telling her she was doing well, that she was so brave, and that he was so proud. And finally did she feel that she could do it.

Crying quietly for her lost husband, for the child that would grow up without a father, and the miracle that would be Arthur's true legacy, she turned her attention to Bronwyn and let the girl guide her the rest of the way.

Moments later, the sounds of an infant screaming filled the chamber, and the final piece of her heart fell back into place.

* * *

As Gwen stared down at her daughter, bundled up and half-asleep in her arms, she knew she would never love anything as much as she loved that tiny child. She was so small and new and _beautiful_.

Merlin could not take his eyes of the infant. When Gwen handled the bundle to him, being careful not to wake the dozing child, he looked more alive than he had in months. The grief that had filled his eyes after Gaius' death was pushed aside by a new, encompassing wonder.

"She'll be like Arthur," Gwen whispered, smiling. "Like Ygraine."

Merlin nodded, tears trailing down his cheeks. He didn't think he could speak.

Leon and Percival came in not soon after and took their turns at holding the newborn heir, before handing her back to her mother.

"What will you call her?" Percival asked.

"Nyneve," Gwen murmured. "She will be called Nyneve."

"After Ygraine's mother?" Leon wondered.

Gwen nodded, and kissed Nyneve's soft curls of hair.

Percival smiled. "It's a beautiful name."

"Yes," Merlin agreed. "Fit for a Queen."

* * *

Merlin dreamt of Arthur the next night. The King stood before him, dressed in his white shirt and brown breeches, and looking more at ease than Merlin had even seen him. His blue eyes were alight with happiness. He was exactly as Merlin remembered him; regal and strong and noble. Almost real, though not quite.

It was not uncommon for him to see Arthur in his dreams, but this time it was different. This time Arthur didn't look like a simple figment of his imagination. They were in his chambers, which looked as they had while he was still a prince, before his ascent to the throne and marriage to Gwen.

"Thank you, old friend," Arthur said, placing a familiar hand on his shoulder. "She needs you by her side."

Merlin didn't know what to say, what to do, so Arthur continued; "What I said, before the battle, it was true. You are the bravest man I ever knew. I still believe that, Merlin."

"N–no." Merlin shook his head. He thought of Avalon, how stupid and selfish he had been. He thought of how close he had been to never returning to Camelot again. "No, I'm not–you're not–"

"Merlin–"

"_No_! You're–you're _gone_. You…"

Arthur rolled his eyes, in a gesture of familiar, so real, that Merlin could only scramble further away from him and beg the Gods that it _was _just a dream. Because if it wasn't, it meant he would lose Arthur all over again.

"_Mer_lin," Arthur growled, and would have talked some sense into his servant if he didn't look down at the warlock, now kneeling some distance away from him, and see tears streaming down his cheeks. He crouched down before him and put a hand on his friend's shoulder again. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

"I've missed you," Merlin whispered.

"And I you."

"Are…. Are you coming back?"

Arthur took a seat on the floor beside him, like he had all those years ago, after Freya's death. He knew about all of that now, but he didn't know how to tell Merlin that he did. "I don't know."

"How long will I have to wait?"

"I don't know."

"I didn't believe the Dragon. That's why I–when I went to Avalon I–"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, Merlin," Arthur cut in.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything."

"Don't be." Arthur silenced him again.

They sat like that, side by side on the flagstones, for a long time, in the companionable silence they had always been so familiar with. Sometimes Arthur would be writing a speech and Merlin polishing armor, and they'd sit at the table and say nothing, but it was never uncomfortable – just as it wasn't now. Merlin wondered if the memories were as painful for Arthur as they were for him.

"What's she like?" Arthur asked eventually, voice soft and perhaps even shy.

"Nyneve?"

Arthur smiled fondly and nodded.

"She's beautiful," Merlin whispered. "She's so small. I'm scared I'll drop her."

"If you do, you'll have me to answer to."

They both laughed at that.

"I wish I had gotten to meet her," Arthur confessed.

"One day, perhaps."

The King nodded.

"I'll watch over her until then," Merlin promised. "I promise you that, Arthur."

"Thank you, Merlin."

They sat in silence for a while longer. It was not as painful anymore.

Eventually, the real world called. Arthur and Merlin did not say goodbye this time, just as they hadn't the last.

* * *

Percival and Bronwyn married not long after Nyneve's birth and, not a year later, their own daughter, Matilda, was born. Nyneve and Matilda would be the best of friends, they were all sure of it.

* * *

Nyneve – or Neve, as she was most often called – was like Arthur. She had his golden hair and expressive blue eyes, his courage and his determination, and by the time she was five years old had the entire court wrapped around he little finger.

Gwen was happy and complete. She had not forgotten Arthur, and she never would, but the birth of her daughter had lessened her grief and given her more of a purpose than she ever felt. Life had gone on.

But for Merlin, it was different.

Merlin never dreamt of Arthur again, but he was everywhere – in Camelot, in the palace, in Neve. He was not alone, but he felt it. He saw too much in Neve's big blue eyes – too much of _Arthur _– and it broke his heart. Arthur should have been there. Neve was not Arthur.

But Uncle Merlin still did everything she asked of him. He still conjured butterflies and healed all the injured animals she and Matilda found in the forest. He even took her to see Aithusa. They became good friends, the Princess and the Dragon. Merlin was not sure he could forgive either of them.

He hated himself. Camelot didn't feel like home anymore.

* * *

"Matilda!" Neve shouted. "Come and see Aithusa!"

Merlin watched from the window of Gwen's chambers as the small white dragon swooped into the courtyard and bowed to the Princess and her best friend. Soon, Neve and Matilda were giggling as Aithusa danced in circles above them.

"They grow up so fast, don't they?" Gwen asked, smiling fondly down at the trio as she came to stand beside Merlin.

Across the courtyard, Leon was throwing a fit, telling them to _be careful_. This only made them laugh harder.

"Too fast," Merlin mumbled.

Gwen laughed. "She's just like her father."

Merlin didn't reply.

"All right," the Queen sighed. "What is it?"

The warlock forced a nervous smile. "What's what?"

"You! You've been acting strangely for months now. So tell me – what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you."

"It's nothing, Gwen," Merlin insisted, turning away from the window as Neve's giggling continued.

"Merlin."

Merlin shook his head. "I–I can't…. there's nothing wrong."

"Is it… is it about your immortality?" Gwen asked gently.

Yes, that had been bothering him. His friends were growing old around him and yet he remained as he always had, frozen. But that was not the problem. He couldn't tell her the real truth.

Merlin turned back to her, hiding his true feelings behind the mask he had spent years perfecting, and questioned formally, "May I take some time of?"

"Of course." Gwen frowned. "Does this have something to do with what's bothering you?"

With no idea exactly what to say, Merlin simply nodded.

Gwen smiled, as if the problem had been solved and things would go back to normal soon enough. "Good. Then enjoy your time off. You deserve it."

* * *

It rained that night. The dark sky lit up with the luminescent silver of lightening and the forest rumbled with thunder. When he'd left the palace, Neve had been sitting by her window, watching the storm with both trepidation and wonder. It seemed to fascinate her, yet scare her also, though she did not turn away from the window or go to bed as Gwen insisted. He knew she'd watched him leave.

The waters of Avalon were wild when he arrived. He stood on the shore, where he had held Arthur for the last time, and through the hammering rain stared out at the lake he had laid so many of his friends to rest upon.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled, over the thunder. "I can't keep my promise, Arthur! I can't do it! I can't stay there!"

There was no reply, save for a tremendous bolt of lightening landing in the forest behind him with a colossal crash.

He waded into the water until it was up to his knees. "Are you listening to me, you dollophead? I've failed you again! _I can't do it_!"

Water sloshed against his kneecaps, trying to drag him further into the depths, but he would not make the same mistake again. He stood where he was and let himself sob and scream at the waters, until his voice was hoarse. Then, and only then, did he retreat back to the shore and lie on the bank, wailing as he had before Percival had found him all those years ago. The storm seemed to reach its crescendo in time with his sobbing, and begun to subside when he was cold and weak, and had curled into himself and whimpered pathetically.

"You're wrong, you know," a familiar voice said beside him.

He leapt upright, scrambling away. A light drizzle still disturbed the waters behind him. "Gwaine?"

Gwaine grinned at him. He was glowing in the darkness of the early morning, looking both dead and alive as he sat looking out at Avalon. "Hello, Merlin. Did you miss me?"

"How are you…?" Merlin gaped.

"How am I here?" Gwaine finished. Merlin nodded feebly. "I don't know. One of the many wonders of the world, perhaps? Or maybe I'm a restless spirit come back to haunt you?"

Merlin snorted. "I hope not," he joked.

Gwaine chuckled. "As do I, my friend."

"I'm so sorry, Gwaine," Merlin said. "For Eira, for not saving you from Morgana. And–and for never telling you."

"I already knew about your magic, Merlin."

"You did?"

He nodded. "I guess I just thought you'd tell me one day. But alas, nothing happens as we would expect it to."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Gwaine smiled sadly. "It's my own fault, anyway."

"No," Merlin said certainly. "No, Gwaine. None of it was your fault. You are not responsible for Arthur's death."

"If I hadn't told Morgana–"

"She would have found us anyway. It wasn't you."

Gwaine looked away. "Merlin…"

"Please, Gwaine. Please, _it was not your fault_."

"You really believe that?" Gwaine asked timidly.

Merlin smiled, and nodded. "Yes. And you should too."

The rain finally subsided; the infrequent clashing of thunder far away and almost unnoticeable.

"Gaius misses you," Gwaine told him.

"How is he?"

Gwaine grinned. "Happy. They all are."

"They?"

"Yes, they. Lancelot, Elyan, Arthur… _Balinor_." Gwaine's smile grew. "I met him, you know. Great bloke. Just like you. And as for Freya… well, you could have told me about _her_."

Merlin's eyes widened. "You met her?"

"Yeah. You should have seen Arthur's face when he found out you two were together... and then when he found out what happened."

"So he knows about that."

Gwaine nodded. "She forgave him, and I think he's just about forgiven himself. He wants you to know that he's sorry."

"It wasn't his fault," Merlin said. "I don't blame him."

"You're a great man, Merlin."

Merlin smiled at him. "As are you, Sir Gwaine."

"Take care of yourself, all right?"

The warlock nodded shakily. "Are you going now?"

Gwaine's eyes saddened once more. "I can't stay much longer, I'm afraid."

"I understand. Thank your, Gwaine."

"Stay in Camelot for now." The knight got to his feet and stretched as if sitting down had stiffened his muscles, though Merlin doubted he felt a thing. "It's your home; Nyneve needs you. And you have not failed Arthur. He knows that."

"Is he coming back?" Merlin asked quietly.

Before Avalon reclaimed the knight, he looked apologetically at his first and best friend, and told him, "I don't know, Merlin. I'm sorry."

And then Gwaine vanished with the storm clouds.

* * *

"How was your day off?" Gwen asked at dinner a few days later.

"It was fine," Merlin replied tensely.

"Where did you go?"

"Avalon," Neve said, before Merlin could make up a lie.

"No, I–" Merlin begun, when Gwen's eyes widened in horror. "It wasn't like that."

"Aithusa told me you were shouting," Neve continued. "Why were you shouting, Uncle Merlin?"

"I was angry, Neve," Merlin said quietly.

The Princess blinked innocently at him. "At who?"

"At a great many people," the warlock continued. "But I should not have shouted."

Neve blinked, nodded, and went back to slicing her vegetables. When she'd finally gone to bed, Gwen and Merlin remained at the table.

"Why?" Gwen hissed, after the silence had dragged on long enough. "Why would you do that again, Merlin?"

"I didn't–"

"Then what were you doing?"

"I was visiting Arthur's resting place."

Gwen's eyes narrowed. "The shouting?"

"I only called him a dollophead," Merlin mumbled.

"I thought giving you some time off would make things better," Gwen murmured. "But nothing has changed. What can I do, Merlin?"

"Nothing. There's nothing you can do," he snapped harshly.

They sat in silence for the rest of the night. There was no sun at dawn, only rain clouds. Neve watched the storm again, no longer afraid of it.

* * *

"You followed me?" he demanded the next day, after sneaking out to see Aithusa.

Aithusa bowed her head in shame. "I wanted to know where you were going."

He'd taught her to speak years before. She was very good at it now.

"But you told Nyneve."

"She saw you leave, my lord," Aithusa continued. "I had to tell her."

"Do not do it again," he snapped.

"Merlin–"

"You will not do that again, Aithusa. Do you understand me?" he roared.

The Dragon shrunk back submissively. "Yes, my lord."

"Goodbye, Aithusa."

Merlin stormed back to Camelot.

* * *

When Hunith fell ill, Merlin made the journey to Ealdor to look after her. She died two days after his arrival, and he buried her next to the grave he and Arthur had given Balinor many years ago.

Kilgharrah circled the forest above him. It would be the last time he and Aithusa saw the Great Dragon.

* * *

Neve was almost fifteen summers old when Hunith passed away.

She had grown from a spoilt girl to a compassionate young woman. Her stubbornness and determination remained, but she treated noblemen and commoners alike with respect and cared deeply for her people. She was even more like Arthur now. Merlin knew she would make a great Queen when that day came and, taking Gwaine's words to heart, pushed aside his bitterness.

When he'd returned from Ealdor, Neve found him sitting on the courtyard steps one night, as Gwen had when he had first revealed his immortality. She sat down beside him and looked up at the bright, full moon.

"I know it will not bring her back, or make you feel much better," she said softly. "But I am sorry, Merlin."

Merlin tried to smile. "Thank you."

"If there is anything you need, you know mother and I are here for you. Aithusa also."

The sounds of Camelot tucking itself into bed was the only punctuation to their silence.

"My father would have known how to make you feel better, wouldn't he?" Neve asked finally.

Merlin did smile then. "Yes, most probably."

"What was he like?"

"He was courageous. And loyal. He always wanted to do the right thing," Merlin told her. "He was a great leader – as you will be, when the time comes."

Neve bowed her head modestly. "I wish I had met him."

"One day, perhaps."

She met his eyes and seemed to realize that he knew something she didn't, but simply smiled and said in agreement, "Yes, one day."

"He would have been proud of you."

"I hope so." Her smile grew, and she squeezed his arm appreciatively before standing. "Thank you, Merlin. Remember what I said."

His chest ached as he watched her go.

* * *

Leon was more of a father figure to Neve than Merlin ever could be. He taught her how to fight, at her request, and by the age of ten the Princess was a skilled warrior. Neve worshiped him. Merlin was glad she had someone like Leon. She needed a father.

Percival taught her how to read and write. As a child, Neve would be the one telling bedtime stories from one of the large volumes Geoffrey had treasured, talking wildly about mystical creatures and handsome princes coming to rescue her, without even giving Gwen or Merlin a chance to speak. And she could write a tax report by the age of thirteen.

Gwen was the one to discuss aforementioned handsome princes with her. Anything girly, from dresses to future husbands, was her mother's forte. As Neve matured, they would spend long nights discussing handsome knights and giggling about all sorts of things the men could ever hope to understand.

Cadoc and Bronwyn taught her about medicine, Matilda friendship.

And Merlin showed her not only magic, and its wonders and uses, but nobility like her father's. He taught her that rank did not matter so long as you have a good heart. He was more reserved around the Princess than the others, but his previous resentment had turned to a fondness he could not deny. Merlin kept his promise to Arthur.

By seventeen, Nyneve Pendragon was the perfect Queen. But things change.

* * *

Leon died protecting Neve – killed by a sorcerer in the Darkling Woods – and she changed. She grew bitter and cold and resentful, and every display of magic upset her. For her to come into power then would have been the end to Gwen's beliefs of equality and peace, and the beginning of the Second Great Purge.

She may have had Ygraine's heart, but like Uther's it was hardened by fear and loss. And yet Merlin stayed in Camelot and kept his promise to Arthur. He had grown to love Neve as the knights had years before, and he did not want to leave her.

At Leon's funeral, he stood by her side. Even as people begun to leave the courtyard she stayed, staring into the flames. Merlin took her hand.

"I'm sorry, Neve," he said.

She ripped her hand from his and kept her gaze locked on the pyre.

* * *

Merlin found the sorcerer who'd killed Leon that night and destroyed him, just as he had the Saxons all those years ago. When he returned to Camelot, he felt sick. When he saw Neve in the hallway, as he returned to his chambers, she looked even more disgusted at him than she had before the funeral.

He hated himself, and she hated him too.

* * *

There was a loud, rattling knock at the door. He knew it was Percival before the knight had even stepped inside.

Percival's eyes widened as soon as he saw the magic-made mess. The table and chairs had been thrown across the room, shattered into pieces. Chair legs had been left in all sorts of strange places. The four-poster bed had collapsed, the drapes thrown across the floor like a rug, and all the candles were alight and hovering in the air among the shards of the broken windows.

In the center of it all sat Merlin, hugging his legs to his chest, looking even younger than usual. It was strange, growing old when you friend did not, but that was not what bothered Percival now.

"Merlin," Percival said carefully, crouching before the warlock. "What happened?"

"I–the sorcerer that k-killed Leon…" Merlin turned towards him and only then did Percival see the large gash on the left side of his head. "He's d-dead. I killed him."

Percival put a hand on his shoulder, but the man flinched away violently. "Merlin, you need a physician."

"It will heal. I–I'm immortal, after all. Did you forget? No, of course n-not. It's impossible to forget. I can't die," Merlin spat. "Even when you–you all die. I won't. I _can't_."

"Come on." Percival took his arm, trying to pull him up.

"Get out!" Merlin yelled.

"No. You need–"

There was a dangerous look on Merlin's face. His eyes flashed gold, and the one vase that remained intact shattered to pieces. The shards of broken glass rained down around them, although Merlin's magic protected them from harm. "I need you to _leave_!"

"Merlin–"

"Go, Percival! _Get out_!"

Percival backed out of the room.

* * *

Percival found Gwen and they both rushed back to Merlin's chambers. He was asleep or unconscious when they arrived, surrounded by a sea of glass and candles. They took him to Cadoc, who confirmed that yes, he'd taken a heavy blow to the head, but that he was almost certain the warlock's immortality made it impossible for such injury to cause any damage.

They sat by his bedside, waiting for him to wake.

"He killed the sorcerer," Percival murmured. "The one that…" he swallowed and didn't continue – he didn't need to.

Gwen's eyes turned to Merlin's peaceful face. "Good."

"Do you think that's why he's like this?"

The Queen shook her head slowly. "Nyneve has… she believes that she hates magic, for it's part in Leon's death. But Merlin hasn't been himself for a while. He went to Avalon again a number of years ago. I don't know what happened there, but he seemed better a few months later, and until now." She sighed. "I suppose it's easier to believe everything is all right, rather than acknowledge that it's not."

"Neve doesn't hate him," Percival said.

"No. No, she could never hate him," Gwen whispered. "But I fear what will happen if she believes that she does. If she becomes Queen with this false hatred in her heart, I worry that our freeing of magic would have been for nothing."

"It will never be for nothing."

Gwen stroked a strand of Merlin's hair away from his bandaged forehead. "I hope so."

* * *

A few days later, when Merlin had mostly recovered, Gwen found him standing by the window in his new chambers, looking out over the courtyard. Neve sat on the steps and stared at where Leon's pyre had been, Matilda at her side. Neither of them talked. By their feet, Aithusa was curled into a tight ball. Neve's hatred towards magic did not extend as far as the dragon.

"Merlin," Gwen said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

She smiled. "I'm glad."

They both watched Neve and Matilda.

"She doesn't hate you," Gwen whispered. "She never could."

Merlin shook his head. "She won't talk to me."

Gwen put a hand on his shoulder. "It might take time, but I promise you that she does not hate you. She will not turn her back on magic."

"How can you promise that?"

"Because she is my daughter." She squeezed his shoulder. "I know her better than anyone."

The warlock smiled at that.

"What happened the other night – you must promise me that it will never happen again," Gwen insisted.

"I'm sorry, Gwen. I shouldn't–"

"Just promise me that it won't happen again."

Merlin nodded. "I promise."

* * *

Nothing changed.

Neve still wouldn't look him in the eye. She avoided him when she could and the few times she was forced into his company, she refused to speak to him. It seemed Gwen had been wrong.

Months passed, and yet Neve did not change her mind.

A year went by. The Princess became even more withdrawn from him.

And now everywhere he looked, he saw Arthur again – in each corridor, each tapestry. The King returned to his dreams, but he was not reassuring or kind. He hated Merlin as Neve did. In his dreams, Neve and Arthur stood on the balcony and watched his execution with smiles on their faces.

Did Arthur hate him too?

Uther's influence, in a way, seemed to be returning with Neve's growing hatred. Some citizens begun to doubt magic again. Some eyed him with suspicion when he passed by; others would no longer talk to him.

Again, Camelot was no longer his home.

* * *

"There have been reports of ships carrying large squadrons of men docking in the north," one of the Knights of the Round Table announced. "Sir Hoel and myself are concerned that we may be at risk of invasion."

"How many ships have docked?" Gwen asked.

"Around five, in a number of different ports, although the men appear to be marching under the same banner."

"My lady," Merlin spoke up. "I can ride north immediately to assess the threat."

"No," Neve said.

Everyone at the Round Table fell silent. The rift between Merlin and Neve had not gone unnoticed. They knew that the pair had not spoken in over a year.

"We will send the knights," Neve continued. "One man will not be enough."

"I am powerful enough to–"

"I know how powerful you are," Neve snapped. "But we don't need your magic. Sir Hoel, gather twenty knights. You will ride north at dawn."

Hoel nodded uncertainly, eyes flickering to Merlin, the Queen and then Neve once more. "Y–yes, my lady."

Neve glanced at her mother, before announcing, "Thank you. You are all dismissed."

* * *

Gwen, Neve and Merlin remained after the meeting, sitting at their places.

"Nyneve, Merlin is perfectly capable of–" Gwen begun.

"Under my reign, magic will not be used for such purposes," Neve said, jaw and posture tense. "I am preparing the Round Table for such a time, as you told me to."

"We can learn a lot from the past, Neve," Gwen said. "Hatred causes only suffering and pain. I know that is not what you want."

Neve looked down at her entwined hands and shook her head.

"Then please, see reason in what you are doing. This is not rational."

"No, it's _realistic_," Neve spat. "Magic is _wrong_."

The Princess stood abruptly and went to leave.

"Your father believed that, for so long," Merlin called after her. "But he was able to see that magic is a force to be used for good."

Too many emotions crossed Neve's face for either of them to decipher. Eventually, she settled on inherit stubbornness. "Then he was a fool."

The door slammed loudly behind her.

Gwen sighed and stood. "I'll speak to her."

"I think I should leave Camelot," Merlin announced, before Gwen could go after her. "For a short while. I can travel north, ensure that we are under no threat, and perhaps stay there for a while."

"You don't need to leave."

"Gwen–"

"No, Merlin." Gwen shook her head. "I need you here. Please."

The Queen left to speak with her daughter.

* * *

Neve sulked for a few days afterwards. It seemed the entire palace had heard her discussion with Gwen. There had been screaming and crying on the Princess' part, and hushed and careful words on the Queen's. Eventually, their conversation had ended, and was mostly forgotten.

Neve returned to her silence and avoidance. Again, nothing changed.

Weeks past. Merlin begun to feel claustrophobic in Camelot. He wanted to leave. He needed to. This was not his home.

The patrol from the north did not return.

It provided him with the perfect excuse.

* * *

He found Gwen in the throne room, standing near one of the windows. Rain hammered loudly against the palace walls. The world seemed to know what was coming, just as the Queen did.

"The patrol should have returned by now," Merlin said. "If you will allow it, I want to ride north, to check that nothing has happened to them."

"Of course, Merlin," Gwen murmured.

They stood in silence. Outside, a clap of thunder echoed through the courtyard.

"You won't be coming back, will you?" Gwen asked sadly, knowingly. "At least not for a while."

Merlin shook his head.

"You don't have to go."

"I think I do," Merlin whispered.

Gwen could not argue otherwise this time. "I will miss you."

"I will miss you too."

The friends embraced for what they both feared was the last time.

"I don't want you to go," Gwen said. "I don't know what I'll do without you."

"You'll do what you always do: you'll be brilliant."

Merlin knew she was smiling, even if her face was buried in his shoulder.

"Please take care of yourself, Merlin."

"I will."

"And thank you." Gwen pulled away. "Thank you for everything."

Merlin just about managed to return her smile. "Goodbye, Gwen."

"Goodbye, Merlin."

* * *

He said goodbye to Percival and Bronwyn. Their four sons and Matilda had been there also to wish him well.

By the next morning, he had packed all of his things and was ready to leave. He prepared his horse, even if he could have gotten there in moments using magic, and mounted. Gwen and Percival stood on the steps to see him off.

Neve was not there. Merlin couldn't say goodbye to her.

But for some reason, he had a feeling this would not have been farewell anyhow.

* * *

"I will miss him," Gwen said, as she watched her best friend gallop out of the courtyard.

Percival let out a sad sigh. "Me too."

"Do you think he'll be back?"

"Yes."

* * *

"Where has Merlin gone?" Neve asked, over dinner that night.

Gwen looked down at her plate. "North, for a while."

"Will he be back?"

"One day, perhaps."

The Princess nodded. _I hope so_, she wanted to say, but couldn't find the courage to do so.

* * *

Three of the ships had been carrying ordinary cargo and men. The other two had been carrying warriors and warhorses, and rampaged each village they'd passed through.

They had killed the Camelot patrol too.

Merlin sunk their ships and drowned the men. It had taken powerful magic and he spent much of the winter in a small shack in the northernmost corner of Albion, where the frigid winds rattled the rotten wood and the snow pilled up almost to the shuttered windows. He slept, for the most part, and regained his strength.

He dreamed of Arthur there. They were nightmares, illusions, he tried to reassure himself. But during the days the King's words rung clear in his mind: _you have broken your promise, Merlin. I cannot forgive you._

Sometimes he believed they were much more than dreams.

* * *

Aithusa found him sometime during the winter. She was tired and cold, and he had to take her in.

By the time spring had dawned, they had forgiven each other for all that had happened in the past. Merlin knew that, with her by his side, he wouldn't be alone for a long, long time.

* * *

When he was not destroying every threat to Camelot, and after Aithusa had returned to Camelot, Merlin traveled.

He found Gilli. The young sorcerer had grown up and started a family. He was free now, as were his magic-practicing children, and he thanked Merlin for that.

Alvarr was old and ill when Merlin met him on his travels, in a tavern not far from Ealdor. Although they had never come face to face before, they knew of each other, and drank together in silence. Morgana and Mordred were not mentioned. When he returned to the same tavern a month later, he'd been informed that the renegade druid had passed away. Merlin paid his respects at the grave they had made him.

A large group of Druids accepted him into their camp for an entire year. Iseldir had died a number of years before, but the druids still remembered their leader fondly. They thanked Merlin for freeing them and called him Emrys even when he insisted they did not need to. Life was simple there. He liked it, but thought about Gwen and Neve and Percival often.

Nemeth were more than accommodating. Mithian was Queen now. She'd married her true love a few years after Arthur's death. Their oldest son, Elias, would take the throne soon.

Sefa was happy when he found her. She'd taken up a craft similar to Bronwyn's in one of the outlaying villages. Her life was simple, but good. For a while, he had stayed in the village inn, wondering what it would have been like if the maid had been in Camelot for a longer time. But wondering was not a wise thing for the immortal to do. It was a lesson he had already learnt.

Tristan, he discovered, had lived in Lot's kingdom for a while, no longer smuggling, but fighting alongside the king to eradicate slavery in the area. He had died fighting, a few years before Merlin's arrival and stay in Lot's court. The withering King was kinder than he had been told (his daughter claimed that old age had changed him) and seemed to enjoy the warlock's company. He sent word back to Camelot there.

The news he received in return cut his stay short: the Queen was dying.

* * *

Merlin knew, eventually, that it would happen. Gwen was not immortal, and he was. One day, he would lose her.

But it was too soon. He was not ready.

He refused the stallion Lot had offered him. In a blink of golden eyes, he was in Camelot's courtyard and rushing up the familiar steps. The servants and knights gaped at his sudden appearance, and gasped and gossiped when they recognized the mysterious man, but he paid them no heed. He just ran, and thought, _I'm not ready_.

Percival stood outside Gwen's chambers; Matilda sat against the wall beside him, and Cadoc was nearby also. They didn't look surprised to see him. Percival gave his shoulder a squeeze and silently opened the doors. Merlin knew that they had already said their goodbyes.

Inside, everything was as it had been three years ago, when he had left Camelot. The room had not been touched nor changed since then. The chairs he and Gwen had spent so much time sitting in, discussing everything and anything, remained where they always had been, and Arthur's influence still lingered years after his death.

But Nyneve had changed over the years. She looked older, wearier, wiser. Her hair was longer, falling in free, golden ringlets to her elbows, and she seemed taller and more elegant now, even slumped in a worn chair beside Gwen's bed. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and she held her mother's hand tightly in her own, dimpled chin resting atop of pale knuckles.

The Queen had changed the most, however. Once so full of life, Gwen now looked pale and worn. There was an unhealthy hollowness to her cheeks and body, and dark circles hung bellow her sunken eyes. Still, a smile danced across her cracked lips when she saw Merlin. Her eyes, which seemed to be the only part of her that clung to life, still sparkled.

"Merlin," she wheezed between shallow breaths. "You came back."

Neve's eyes, bloodshot and red-rimmed, darted to where he stood. They widened in surprise then narrowed in anger. Quickly, though, her sorrow renewed itself, overriding and overwhelming, and she sobbed, turning back to her mother.

Merlin tried to smile back. "Of course I did."

"Neve, I need to… to talk to Merlin," Gwen said weakly.

"Mother, I–" the soon-to-be-Queen protested.

"Please, Neve."

Neve squeezed her eyes shut, more tears streaming down her cheeks, and nodded. Placing a gentle kiss on Gwen's hand, she stood and walked to the table, where she was not quite out of earshot, but far enough away to give them some privacy.

Merlin took the stool she'd just vacated and Gwen held his hand in hers.

"Merlin," she murmured. "Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry."

The warlock shook his head, tears falling freely. "No. No, Gwen, don't be sorry."

Gwen's eyes darted to where Neve paced frantically back and forth, as if not really knowing what to do with herself. "You won't be alone. Stay here. In Camelot. Look after her. Promise me."

He squeezed her hand. "I promise."

"Thank you." She smiled widely at him. "For everything you've done. For Camelot. And Arthur…. for me."

"I'd do anything for you."

"I know. And you have. You always did."

"I'll miss you," Merlin whispered.

"Remember me?"

"Always."

Gwen raised a shaking hand to his cheek, wiping away his tears. The other remained clinging to his. "Don't ever change, Merlin."

He shook his head again. "Thank you, Gwen."

"Thank _you_, Merlin."

Her hand fell from his cheek and she let her eyes fall shut, but her ragged breathing continued. Merlin thought she'd fallen asleep when she asked, softly, perhaps so Neve didn't hear, "Will I see him again?"

"He'll be waiting for you," Merlin replied, equally as quiet. "They all will."

"In Avalon?"

"In Avalon."

Merlin placed a parting kiss on her forehead and stood, so Neve could say her farewells. Gwen opened her eyes again, with what looked to be great difficulty, and grinned the way she had the first time she'd held her daughter all those years ago.

"I'm not ready," Neve sobbed. "Please, don't leave me. I'm not ready."

"I am so proud of you, Neve," Gwen said. "I know that you will be a great Queen."

"No, I'm not ready. _Please._ I'm not ready."

"You will never be alone. Never. I will be watching over you."

Neve shook her head frantically, not knowing what to say to make her understand. She wasn't ready. She would never be ready.

"You must promise me... promise me one thing," Gwen continued.

"Anything."

"Magic… it is a force for good. You must allow it to be free… to be used as such. For only good," Gwen explained. "Your father would have wanted that. Promise me, Neve."

"I promise," Neve whispered.

"I love you, Nyneve. More than anything. Remember that."

Neve pressed her forehead against Gwen's knuckles, tears spilling onto the bed sheets, and choked on a sob. "I love you too."

Gwen closed her eyes for the last time with a smile on her face.

When Merlin placed a hand on Neve's shoulder, she let him. One of her hands moved to his, gripping his fingers.

"You'll stay?" she asked.

"If you want me to," he replied.

Neve nodded and let out another sob. "I'm not ready."

"Neither am I," Merlin whispered. "But we'll get through this."

"Don't leave me again," Neve begged.

"I won't. I promise."

Neve cried until the sun beamed through the windows. And then she rose to face the new day as Queen of Camelot with Merlin at her side.

* * *

They laid Gwen to rest at Avalon.

The sun shone, bright and bold, though the day. And when it finally begun to set, the sky faded from gold to Pendragon red.

A new era had begun.

* * *

Albion prospered under Queen Nyneve's rule. Her parting words to Merlin were, _he will rise again_.

He knew then that Arthur had finally met his daughter and Neve had finally met her father, as they had both wished for so long.

And he knew he would see them all again, one day.

He hadn't failed.

* * *

**A/N: **I feel rather inappropriate listening to cheery music while looking over this, because some of it is decidedly not cheery. I don't know where it came from. At all. It just kinda happened. But I think I sort of like the outcome (does that make me a bad person?).

How was it? Good? Bad? _Terrible_? Let me know! :)


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